A sore bottom from Mrs Miller

When I was four years old, my mother decided she would try to go back to work, even part-time, to earn a little extra money for the family. Of course, at that age I had still not started school, so there was a question of what to do with me.

After doing some asking around locally, Mum got in touch with Mrs Miller, a lady who lived a couple of streets away, who occasionally took in children. She wasn’t actually a registered childminder, and to be honest her home wasn’t very child-friendly either, but I guess it was a case of ‘any port in a storm’. Whatever, it was decided that I would have a trial morning at Mrs Miller’s before my mother started looking for work.

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